Brrr, Throw Another Log On...

(perth in the autumn...feel the chill!)

Ok, it's Autumn now and I for one am bloody freezing!

I've taken to wearing jumpers in the evening and getting under the fleecy sofa throw when watching the telly. It'll soon be time to dig out my leccy blanket seeing as Dave refuses point blank for me to warm my icy toes up on his ever toasty-warm buttocks!

Yesterday the temperature only hit 26 degrees!

I Feel The Earth Move

(Just look at that sky? Autumn, my arse!)

Things are happening down on our land. Someone has been shoving the earth around leaving us wondering who the dirt artist is.

When we went to lord over our plot on Saturday we saw the mysterious patterns dug out of the freshly turned earth. The earthworks were due to start a few days after today so this type of activity obviously breaks with Aussie tradition and therefore is quite worrying.

Do you think it's aliens from another planet forming urban crop type circles or over eager builders?

We've agreed it's the aliens. I mean have you ever heard of an aussie starting a task before they have to?

Relaxing Weekends...

(Kate is on the left...obviously)

One of the girls I work with, Kate, has just booked a weekend away in her home town. She's going back for her dads surprise 60th birthday.

Nothing unusual there except for the small fact that she comes from a little town outside of London.

...and people have the cheek to call me mental?

"At least now that I'm (nearly) in my thirties, I can hold my drink"

(Dot, Brett, Steph and me)


Said I before I fell down the two steps leading out of a nightclub, rolling my ankle!

I tried to blame the stilletto heels, convinced that the right one had been 'put on wonky'. When I got home, I even woke Dave's mate Mick to show him (Dave had a barbebeque for his mates whilst I swanned off into Perth). Alas, on further inspection, it proved that the stilletto was not wonky, my foot was!

And so my Saturday night out on the tiles came to an end.

It had started out sedately enough. Myself, Dot and Steph were off to taste the delights of the Hula Bula bar and the bars of Northbridge (a very dodgy shanty town/clubbing area of Perth situated behind the skyscrapers of the city).

The Hula Bula bar promised me visions of Hawaii from the era of the King of Rock and Roll. What we got was someones living room adorned with a dashboard hula girl!

Hmm, we didn't stay.

Onto Northbridge. To say I was excited about going to Northbridge is an understatement. I was having to try and stop myself from jumping up and down clapping my hands in the manner of a small child faced with a balloon animal.

Northbridge is the place where people go to get stabbed of a Saturday night. How retro? It is the only place in Perth where dirt and litter can reside without fear of being swept up and scrubbed clean (the rest of Perth is picture perfect at all times!). This is where the mafia live (probably...if we have a mafia. I'm not up to date on matters of the criminal underworld) and where most of the unprovoked killings happen.

And I was going to bathe in it's dingy glamour!

We stumbled upon the Mustang Bar. It wasn't hard as the live swing band were loud enough to hear from three streets away. We quickly made our way to the bar and that's where things start to get a little hazy...

Order of drinks: emu bitter (pint of), jagermeister shot x2 followed by red bull chasers (jagermeister is an alcoholic herbal spirit. A bit like cough medicine but much much nicer), slippery nipple (sambuca and baileys), midi of swan draught, margarita, midi of emu bitter and thereafter I have no idea! This is not a bad effort for someone who had promised herself to drink only gin and tonics the whole night so as to behave herself (I'm not nearly so wild when I stick to gin!?).

The band morphed from swing into Nirvana-esque in just over an hour. So there was much dancing, flirting, piccy taking and being told off by management for not wearing my shoes!

I had a wonderful night! And my poor ankle this morning? Swollen like a fat birds. I also can't feel my third and fourth toes. Do you think this is bad?

Oh, well it's not as if I use them at all!

How I met..... H

Series Two...

I've known H since I was eleven when my family and I met her grandparents on holiday in France. We were penpals throughout school and uni and I still have EVERY ONE of her letters!



This is from when we holidayed inFrance when we were sixteen or so. We would drink raspberry wine thinking that we were oh so sophisticated.



My favourite piccy of all. We went to Ibiza together (with Ali) in 1998.



Rome. (Have just realised just how many times we went on holiday together!). Originally the holiday was for myself, H and my mum. Mum couldn't come as she was booked in for an op so my then boyfriend begged me to invite him.

Did I mention it was Valentines weekend too?

A romantic weekend with my best friend and boyfriend.

Needless to say the friendship survived, the relationship didnt!



In Glasgow for her Aunt and Uncles wedding anniversary. We looked fantastic that night.



Me, Chuzzle, Jim and H. One of those rides that drops you from a great height. We looked petrified!

Reading festival, 2000. We got upgraded to VIP camping and camped in the tent next to friends of The Bluetones.

It was also the weekend that we nearly met famous people. First when Jarvis Cocker and Finlay Quaye were trawling around the campsite looking for a joint. They partied with the guys next door whilst we slept on! Second when we sneaked in backstage (H has a way of making people do what she wants them too.. a bit like a jedi mind trick except she uses her feminine wiles!) and almost met Tom Jones.

But didn't. Bugger.


Right so I've bored you silly with my slide shows of H and Spunky. Who's next?

Yes, Mistress Betty!

I'm a sadist! I just didn't realise it.

I've just spent an enjoyable forty minutes waxing Davos back.

Ooh, how he squealed.

This is all that's left of my box of waxing strips!

Sssh, don't tell him I told you. He made me promise......

How I met....Spunky Trunks

Series One (I've just bought a new scanner so I can post all those decadently awful pics of friends before I had a digital camera!)



We met (cliche: bridesmaid/ best man!). He had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend but they were respectively rubbish for us.



I do believe this was the weekend that I threw a sickie and scarpered up to London (enduring the infamous 95 mile/hr speeding ticket and then getting away with it!) and then when I went back on the Monday night they sent me home cos I looked ill still.

Bloody hell we were sooo young!



Spunkys catalogue pose.



We used to get a lot of comments from people admiring that fact that we were 'so in love'!

He is spunky though, eh?



The arse that I worship to!

muzak

Ta Jane, I love doing these...

1, Track from your early childhood:

Michael Jackson, PYT.

I thought he was singing about a chimpanzee!

(It got played constantly in my mums car when my Dad was in hospital so it reminds me of the nurses that were there and subsequently, the first ward I worked on when I qualified as a nurse!)

......I left that buggering ward nine months after I qualified!

2, Track that you associate with your first love:

Red Hot Chili Peppers, Suck My Kiss.

For when I was in love with Mark Whalley at school. He didn't know I existed. I kissed him a few years later and it completely spoiled my fantasy. Totally wrong!

3, A track that reminds you of a holiday trip:

Stardust, Music Sounds Better With You

Mine and Alis annual pilgrimage to Ibiza back in the 90s. Sigh, the days of glitter and spangly boobtubes!

4, A track that you like but wouldn't want to be associated with in public:

Phil Collins, Don't Lose My Number

Has to be blamed on the night Shaz and I went to see a Phil Collins tribute act. He was fab although I think that only Shazza and I were dancing and singing along into our swizzle sticks!

Don't groan, he's fabulous!

5, A track that accompanied you when you were lovesick:

Happy Mondays, Step On.

As was crowd surfing with a gorgeous piece of manliness for the first time. When we got to the front of the crowd, the backing singer (that Rowetta bird from X Factor) tried to get him up on stage.

6, A track that you have listened to most often:

Richard Thompson, 1952, Vincent Black Lightning

Just perfect. Everyone listen. Next time he's here I'll see him.... I promise Richy!

7, A track that is your favourite instrumental

Aker Bilk, Stranger On The Shore

Reminds me of my Grandad

8, A track that represents one of your favourite bands

PJ Harvey, Sheela-na-gig.

I've seen her a few times and I always get that spine tingling feeling and the need to jump up and down like zebedee.

9, A track which represents yourself best

Travis, She's So Strange

It's the 'and she wore a black moustache'.... Don't ask!

10, A track which reminds you of a special occasion

Men at Work, Land Down Under.

They played it countless times at our 'leaving parties' (for we had two!!).

11, A track you can relax to

Gemma Hayes, Back Of My Hand

She's such a gorgeous songstress (in fact the whole of her first album can be found playing when I'm lounging on the hammock)

12, A track that stands for a really good time in your life

John Butler Trio, Zebra.

As am having the time of my life at the moment.

13, A track that is currently your favourite

T'Darkness. Put Your Arms Around Me.

Your dinner lady arms....!

14, A track that you'd dedicate to your best friend

I have three (am greedy I know!!)

Hazel: Robbie Williams, Come Undone (for the time when we went to Knebworth. I fell in love with Robbie all over again!)

Shaz: The Divinyls, I touch Myself (always played in Aberdeen venues when we were out, drunk and ready to party!)

Kirsty: Randy Crawford, Street Life (for all the Torquay nights out dancing on tables)


15, A track that you think nobody but you likes

Carina Round. Into My Blood

No one knows she exists but she is the best thing to come out of Birminham. Try her yourself! (Be warned, she may be a little screechy for refined tastes!)

16, A track you like especially for its lyrics

The Cure. Just Like Heaven.

Old Bob Smith wrote some classics.

17, A track you like thats neither English nor German

So I guess Schnappi is out then?

Cold Chisel, Khe Sahn

Should have been the Aussie national anthem. I can even play it on the guitar!

18, A track that lets you release tension best

PJ Harvey. Who The Fuck.

Especially when singing and air-guitaring whilst jumping up and down on your bed!

19 A track that you want to be played at your funeral

Tori Amos. Happy Phamtom

Or all of the above. Especially Who The Fuck cos I'd love to see anyone try and cry if that was playing!

20, A track that you'd nominate for 'the best of all times' category

Foo Fighters, Learn To Fly.

I've never been happier than when I've been at the V festivals with the whole Scooby Gang (Jim, Paul, Chuz et al)

The Roof, The Roof is on Fire

Remember way back before new year when I first reported the crack in our ceiling?




Well, this is what our ceiling looks like now!



See? All fixed! A vast improvement I think you'll agree!

Introducing Dotty

I've promoted myself to be the official welcomer of friends into blogosphere.


This is Dot. Actually she's called Dorota but that seems too hard a concept for people to handle so she gets called Dorothy by most and Dotty by me.

I work(ed) with Dot at Freo hospital but yesterday was her last day as she has tired of the crap we have to shovel on a daily basis (have you ever heard of another ward taking weekly poo samples from their patients?) and has set her sights on the dizzy heights of A&E work!

Junkies galore!

To celebrate her leaving us in style we bought some very scrummy looking cakes. There was a fruit pavlova with kiwis, strawberries and other exotics decorating the fluff-tastic meringue, a delectably gooey chocolate cake and a decadently swirly black cherry cheesecake.

On the ward there is a traditon of 'Cake Smashing'. Yes, you heard correctly, Cake smashing. The chosen recipient will first surgically scrub up for the exercise (you can rely on a nurse for the proper prep work) and then contemplate which of the cakes she will smash and then BAM, cake smashed. We all then sit around eating said smashed cake while oohing and aahing over the different taste sensations (albeit it mixed in with chlorhexidine hand scrub!)

It's a great way to beat stress (we can't smash patients heads in sadly!) and get fat all in a oner. So these are the pics of Dots big day:



Smash....



Stuff...


Vomit!

Anyway, Dot has decided to join us in our nerdsville blogging world and has started her own blog. You can find her here if you wish!

A Couple of Oysters, Beers and Dolphins

We went to the Oyster Bar on the beach again. It really is a hard life living in Perth. The flipping sun and warmth get everywhere and penetrate your bones until you're all squishy and relaxed! We had to try the Oysters so Dave came away from the bar with a huge plate of them.

I had only had oysters once before with a friend called James. That time, terrible things happened to James' 'down-belows' and I was grateful that he didn't mention it until I had gone home! Dave is obviously made of sterner more aussie stuff, but I am glad to report ..

HE HELD MY HAND IN PUBLIC!!!

Anyone who knows Davo will be as shocked as I and possibly standing at home in front of the screen applauding my expertise in man training! I have been with the old bugger for years and this behaviour has never before been witnessed (unfortunately the effects wear off pretty quickly) and I will obviously be looking to invest in an oyster farm or similar in the foreseeable future!

Anyway the oysters were quite lovely (once I got the person who kept insisting that eating oysters was 'like swallowing a big ball of snot', out of my head!) and the beer went down a treat.

On the way home I was just shouting ahead to Dave (we were on our bikes again) to watch out for dolphins when he screeched on his brakes and veered off the road to the riverbank. A couple of dolphins were making their way back down the river after a heavy days fishing and were lazily swimming in front of us.

I got my camera out and started snapping away like a papparazzi gone mad but being me, I managed to catch not one single photo of the bloody things (photo shows a dolphin almost in shot!).

So you'll have to take my word for it. They were flipping magical!

Flipping Go Away You Heathen Aussie Scoundrels!

The battle between Australia and Britain wages on.

In the news tonight was a piece about how the UK has banned an Australian tourism ad for using bad and shocking language.

I shouldn't really be telling you this as I myself might get banned from blogging if I were to repeat such filth.

But I will anyway!

The ad starts off by showcasing all the usual suspects: Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Opera House, Uluru, a rainforest ya-de-ya-de-ya. Then it cuts to a young blonde girl in her bikini on the beach (yep, they all look good in bikinis here...unfortunately) where she shouts at the camera as it's panning away and up over the great barrier reef where she is...

'So where the bloody hell are you?'

Swears obviously not supported by the Editor (bloody oath it's not. Ed)

"People wot i look like III (Daves Go!)"

So I asked Dave the same question. Here are his replies:

Geoff Lawson (some aussie cricketer)


Phil Tufnell (some other cricketer)

And Deputy Dawg (a cartoon!)

What a lucky girl I am!

'I'm King of the World'

Australian politicians, scientists and uneducated fishwives are currently embroiled in an argument over a controversial drug named RU486.

This drug is the highly controversial abortion pill and some politicians have decided to get into the cat fight to try and ban it so as to 'protect the australian way'?!?

One politician called Danna Vale fears that Australia will become a Muslim country as the aussies are 'aborting themselves out of existence'. She counted up on her many fingers and (webbed) toes the amount of people not being born due to selfish bee-hutches having abortions and not stopping to consider that their country need their foetuses.

She states that with Australia 'hosting' 100,000 abortions a year she fears that over fifty years there will be 5 million less true blue aussies around therefore the nasty people in burqas will take over the world.

Meanwhile in Britain some nazi bird Michele Renouf has been supporting that Irving guy who is a Holocaust Denier. How exactly do you deny the holocaust? Its not as if you don't stumble upon the facts is it? It's not as if you can 'miss' the millions of exterminations that happened?

Bloke: 'See those dead bodies there?'
Irving: (shielding his eyes) 'No! I don't see nuffink mate.'
Bloke: 'Those ones, the ones that aren't moving and are emaciated to fuck.'
Irving: (turning away) 'No. I don't see any dead jews.'
Bloke: 'They're right in front of...'
Irving: 'La la la I'm not listening'!?

Anyway she's been screeching manically from the hills that the jews are taking over the world by holding down top jobs in the media and are conspiring to take over the world.

That BBC guy Greg Dyke?... Jew
That other BBC guy Alan Yentob?...Jew
That media magnate Rupert Murdoch?.. Jew

It's the biggest conspiracy since the 'who shot JR' debacle back in the eighties.

So tell me then, cos I'm easily confused. Who exactly IS taking over the world? Is it the Muslims or the Jews.

(I know this is a couple of weeks out of date now but I obviously wrote this when the quaffing of the good sauvignon blanc was going on and I completely forgot I wrote it! Still, I thought it responsible to publish though. New seasons resolution- will drink less... when on the computer at least. Soz. Ed)

Carry On Building

Update on the house front (the house we're building not the house we're currently wrecking):

Back, days before Christmas, Dave and I graced the Builders office clutching samples of tiles, cupboard doors, benchtops, bricks, roofing and toilet roll holders (important). Naturally we had planned our final choices by holding for and against question sessions, lively debates ('No, you can't have the bloody ensuite open to the bedroom, I don't want to see you trying to pee the letters of your name into the toilet bowl on a Monday morning, Natalie'), sneaking around showhomes of a Sunday afternoon slagging the designers in question (sometimes we mimicked Kath and Kim for effect. Noice, different, uneweusual etc). Obviously we had chosen our final designs months before the pre-start meeting (the D day of our build) so on the actual morning we decided to go and look at our choices.

Just to make sure you know?

In one hour we had changed our mind about everything except for the colour of the roof and the name of our first puppy dog (it remains to be Uncle Len...when we actually get around to rescuing one that is). So, as we entered the builders office, the sun slipped behind a cloud and we shuddered at the prospect of choosing all the 'Rest Of The Stuff'. We had been told that after the pre-start we weren't allowed to change ANYTHING. Not even a soap dish, not even the little stickers that proclaim 'H' and 'C' on the taps.

Were we ready for this? I had been told by people that I work with, that this meeting would go on for four hours. Thoughts about four hours of some Hitler type screaming 'Ja, zis von? Or nein, zis von? Vitch ez it? Das flamink galahz' at us whilst holding two slightly different doorhandles was almost too much for poor Dave. I thought I saw him stumble through the front door.

We were shown into an office where a ferocious aussie lady sat (believe me, the aussie birds can be extremely ferocious looking). She looked up and smiled sweetly and Dave and I collectively started breathing again (we'd be fine) and sat down. I refused her offer of a cup of tea on the basis that I would probably need it more after about an hour of deciding between two slightly different shades of white for the ceiling paint.

And so she started her onslaught. So thorough and fast was she that Dave and I found ourselves thrown out onto the pavement with 'dragged through the hedge' matching hairstyles within forty minutes. Four hours my arse!

After prestart, the customer has forty five working days to obtain finance, council plans, builders insurance and a builders licence. We weren't worried. That gave us until march (h- hmmm) to get it all. Flipping ages away!

So last week I had a phone call from the builders telling me we were dangerously close to our limit and to go harrass the council. After several calls to the council and listening to lots of cheesy pop music whilst on hold (how long does it take to get pop nonsense like Hiliary Duff out of your head?) , the guy on the other end of the phone lazily told me that they had an invalid insurance certificate seeing that it had the wrong address on it.

And there went my incomprehendable phone call to our dishy building consultant where the conversation went like this

Me: 'The insurance certificate you sent to the council had the wrong address on it'

Dishy Consultant: 'What? What are you talking about?'

Me: 'The insurance thingy? The council have it? You sent it? It's the insurance for the builders?'

DC: 'Nope. I have no idea what you're talking about'

Me: 'You know the certificate? With the insurance? With the wrong address?'

DC: 'Still have no idea. Ring me tomorrow'

Me: 'But it came from your company. It has your name on it!'

DC: 'No, I still don't know what you're talking about'

Me: Sorry, I'm on nights, maybe I'm delirious?'

DC: 'Yeah, maybe. Better go. Ring me tomorrow. I have no idea' (muttering to himself as he hangs up!)

He, of course rings me the next day to tell me he has discovered what I was talking about and he did indeed send the aforementioned certificate off with the wrong address! Not to worry my pretty little head about it all though cos he has it all in hand (what with him being dishy and a grown up!).

The result? I have no fingernails left after having some beauts for the last few months. Our licence didn't get through until the actual day our forty-five working days ran out. What DC didn't mention was that he would have sorted it out and we wouldn't have been liable for a fine if we were only a few days late anyway!

I would curse the aussie laid backness but DC is a flipping cockney!

"People wot i look like II"

So these are the suggestions of others:

H: Gillian Anderson (when my hair was short a few years back)



Sparkle: KT Tunstall (am quite pleased about this one even though I look nothing like her!)


And also Kathryn Rayward (I have no idea who she actually is but I think she has punky pink streaks in her hair just like I did. That makes her alright in my book!)


Spunky: Maureen Lipman!

"People wot i look like"

So, in following from H and spunkys lead, here are my lookylikeys:

1, Bonnie LangfordSome nasty screechy voiced Ganger. Hmmmm, next...

2, Danny Kaye

Some funny man from the fifties?

3, Ricki-Lee Coulter
The Australian Idol loser from a couple of years ago. Recently had a 'hit' with "hell, yeah" (oh, please god?). Dave also thinks she is the ugliest thing in pop. I just wish I had her thighs!

4, Meryl Streep? (Well one person said this but it was 13 years ago when I was delicate and had cheekbones)
I wish....

Why don't more famous people look like me? Heaps of people tell me that I remind them of someone they have met. It just so happens that these people are the non-famous and that doesn't count!